What Happened?

Missing moments and Starsky’s thoughts in Hutchinson: Murder One. Plus extra scene after the end of the main episode.

Starsky is worried when Hutch says he’s going to meet Vanessa. When he gets the call the next morning, all he can think is ‘What happened?’

Author’s Note: The very small section of dialogue when Starsky first pours Hutch a drink came from the original script for Hutchinson Murder One, story by Jackson Gillis and teleplay by Robert E Swanson. I guess that part of the scene ended up on the cutting room floor. Any words after they hear the coroner’s wagon are my own.

Photo from Hutchinson for Murder One – Not owned by me. First published 2023.

Starsky’s gaze followed after his partner, showing his unvoiced concern over what Hutch had just told him: “She wants to see me after five years.” In answer to Starsky’s question as to whether he was going to go, Hutch had responded, “I guess so.”

When Hutch had locked his gaze with him, he’d seen the indecision in his partner’s eyes. There was fear at the prospect of being caused pain by seeing Vanessa again. Mixed with curiosity as to why Vanessa would want to see him after all this time.

Every fibre in Starsky’s being was screaming at him to go after Hutch and tell him not to go and meet her. Hutch’s ex had hurt him deeply. Those wounds had scabbed over but it had taken time, a long time. Why did she have to come back now and open up old wounds that were best left well alone? Why did Hutch want to give her the opportunity to do so?

Starsky sighed. There was only so much he could do. Hutch was an adult and fully capable of making his own decisions, although Starsky wasn’t sure Hutch was able to think rationally when it came to Vanessa. He’d supported him through the separation and divorce and seen his usually rational friend turned inside out and upside down by the venomous snake that was Hutch’s ex. He’d also seen how bad it had got between the two of them. And yet, the old ties of love (even a love that had turned sour) and memories of a shared life together (however brief) were still a strong force pulling Hutch towards Vanessa with a certain inevitability. Starsky hoped fervently that Hutch would be able to resist the pull and not get embroiled in whatever scheme Vanessa had cooked up. Otherwise there could be a lot of annoyance and inevitably pain ahead.

*****

The following morning, Starsky was just about to leave the apartment to go pick up his partner when the phone rang. He lifted the receiver from the cradle and spoke quickly into the mouthpiece. “Starsky. What is it?”

“Starsk?”

Starsky felt his hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Even with just that one syllable word, he could tell something was desperately wrong with his partner. He sounded…shattered.

“Hutch? What is it? What’s happened?”

“It’s V-Van. S-She’s dead.”

Shattered. In pieces. And needing his partner.

“Don’t move. I’m on my way, Hutch.”

Starsky hurtled out of the apartment, barely pausing to lock his front door, and then he was slapping the mars light on the roof of the Torino and starting the engine. He floored the gas pedal and drove as fast as he dared towards Venice Place.

Van was dead? How? When? How could that be? If Hutch knew about her death this early in the morning…Was she dead at Hutch’s place? The blood in his veins turned to ice. What on earth had happened last night? Why, oh why, hadn’t he gone after Hutch and told him not to meet up with Vanessa. He’d known it would end in trouble.

End in trouble? What was he thinking? What was he saying? Did he think Hutch had…No, no way! Hutch had seen Vanessa, said goodbye and gone home. That’s what had happened. Somehow he’d been contacted this morning to say she was dead. Dead? But how could Vanessa be dead? It didn’t make any sense!

He knew he needed to get to his partner, find out what had happened and support him through whatever this turned out to be.

Dead? How could Vanessa be dead?

As he screeched to a halt outside Venice Place, Starsky’s heart leapt into his mouth. What was he going to find? Hopefully, his partner in a state but alone. Please God let him be alone. He raced up the stairs and flung open the door…and stopped. His eyes took in the details quickly; his partner sitting in a subdued slump at the table; a single chair and a plant knocked over; a covered body lying on the floor. No blood anywhere that he could see.

Had Vanessa had a heart attack? Surely not a woman as young as she was? And if it had been a heart attack wouldn’t there be paramedics on scene? Hutch would have rung for help. Not a heart attack then.

Starsky gently closed the door behind him. His partner gave no outward indication that he knew he was there but Starsky could sense that he did. He walked carefully towards the still, lifeless form on the floor, pausing only to gently touch Hutch’s shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone anymore. Alone with the burden of whatever this was. Starsky moved silently towards the body. He lifted the white sheet and saw two things – the single entry wound and Hutch’s gun lying beside the body.

What? How? How did this happen? Hutch’s gun had been used but Hutch wouldn’t…couldn’t take the life of someone in these circumstances. He just couldn’t. It couldn’t have been Hutch who did this.

As Starsky straightened up, he again took in the details of the scene around him and tried to think things through. Nothing made sense here. How could Hutch’s gun have been used without Hutch knowing about it?

What was Hutch wearing? His track suit. Had he been out of the apartment when this had happened? It looked possible. So what had happened? There was no sign of forced entry but then if Hutch had gone for a jog and Vanessa was expecting him back soon the door wouldn’t have been locked. There was no sign of a fight or much of a struggle. The scene was almost clinical.

If this scene was before him in another building in another location, his detective’s brain would tell him it wasn’t a crime of passion. It was more like a hit. Yes, a hit. Someone else had gunned Vanessa down. Not his partner. Not that the thought had ever crossed his mind. He knew Hutch, knew that he just wasn’t capable of murder.

He glanced at his partner and saw that he hadn’t moved a muscle. He looked as broken as he had sounded on the phone – and that wasn’t likely to improve in the next few minutes, hours or days. Not once the treadmill started rolling. There would be questions, forensic evidence collected, suspicion aroused as soon as the investigation started. Starsky knew he needed to ring it in – it was his duty to report the crime and allow the machinations of a homicide investigation to begin. But his first duty was to Hutch and the one thing he could give him was a few precious minutes of calm, of time to collect his scattered thoughts. Vanessa wasn’t going anywhere. She could wait a few minutes.

Starsky bent down to look inside the kitchen cabinets and found the whisky that he knew Hutch kept there for medicinal purposes. He sat down at the table opposite his partner and silently poured a large measure for his partner.

He noted that Hutch had collected all the contents of Vanessa’s bag and placed them carefully on the table. A diary and notebook were laid next to lipsticks that would never be worn again. Hutch was holding an atomiser on his hands, rolling it between his fingers absentmindedly. The fact that his partner had felt the need to gather up her personal items, which had presumably been strewn over the floor, spoke volumes.

Firstly, it meant that someone had been looking for something in amongst Vanessa’s possession. But what? And had they found what they were looking for? Secondly, it showed just how off his game Hutch was: he knew better than to move anything at a crime scene. But this wasn’t a crime scene to Hutch; this was his home. Violence and death had entered this place of tranquillity and safety and set him spinning.

Starsky was upset that his friend’s home had been marred by murder and his heart had been fractured by the death of someone for whom he had feelings – complicated, mixed-up feelings but feelings none-the-less. Starsky didn’t know how he was going to even start helping Hutch sort through the emotional fallout from this, but for now it would have to be enough that he was here and that he would back Hutch all the way.

Hutch hadn’t picked up the glass in front of him yet. Starsky watched him with worried eyes. He needed to get his partner out of his state of shock and quickly.

“Drink it,” he ordered.

Hutch picked up the glass and took a sip of the fortifying liquid.

Starsky asked the question that had been burning a hole in his brain ever since Hutch’s phone call, “What happened?”

There was a long silence. Starsky was painfully aware that time was ticking down, but he also knew Hutch was in a state of shock and needed careful handling. He tried again: “Hey pal, can you tell me what happened?”

Hutch raised doleful eyes to Starsky and tried to speak. Words failed him.

Starsky moved his questioning to easier ground – procedures that were ingrained and automatic. Hopefully. “You call the coroner’s wagon? The crime lab?”

“Yeah.”

That’s good. Hutch is still able to use his brain despite the shock. Although that also means we only have a few more minutes before people come pouring through that door. Got to get you talking, partner. I need as many facts as possible at my fingertips to help get through this minefield.

“What happened?” Starsky asked agin, softly but forcefully.

“Vanessa’s dead.”

“I can see that…What happened, Hutch? Talk to me!”

“I was…out on the beach…taking my run….She stayed over last night and I came back and…”

Hutch stuttered to a halt and his eyes filled up with unshed tears. Trying not to lose control, he ran his hands through his hair and Starsky spotted a scratch on one of his left hand.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Huh…” Hutch looked at his hands in confusion then his expression clouded as he remembered last night. “Oh…just uh….nothing.”

Starsky knew Hutch wasn’t telling him something. He knew he would have to get it out of his partner at one point or another, but he wouldn’t press it for now.

“Tell me what happened. How come Vanessa was here?”

Starsky’s voice was forceful enough that Hutch had no recourse but to look at him. The devastated man realised that he had to start somewhere. His partner needed to know what had happened and he needed to tell him if there was going to be any chance of getting out of this mess and finding out who k…hurt Vanessa.

“It started lousy, Starsk…but this morning when I went out for my run…we were friends again. I mean…it felt good. Vanessa and I were connecting again. Like when we first met.”

Started lousy? We were connecting again? Yes, I’m sure it felt the same as when you first met but, Hutch, remember what happened? She hurt you over and over. It would have ended lousy again, pal. Not for the first time, Starsky wondered, How could you even think of falling for Vanessa’s lies? But he didn’t say any of this out loud to his friend.

They both stiffened as they heard sirens approaching in the distance.

“I guess that will be the coroner’s wagon…We ought to get out of their way.”

Hutch didn’t respond; just looked hopelessly at his partner. Starsky stood up and moved around the table. He squeezed Hutch lightly on his shoulder.

“Come on, pal. Why don’t you go have a shower and change? I’ll deal with the coroner and the Crime Lab team. Then we’ll go see Dobey and write up everything you know…however little it is.”

Hutch slowly stood up. He gave one last glance to the covered body on the floor before moving away towards the bedroom. Starsky watched to make sure that his friend was headed towards the bathroom and then went to open the door for the coroner. The best way he could protect Hutch for now was to let the Crime Lab team deal with the scene like any other homicide and then get the body out of here as quickly as possible. He would give his friend time to gather his thoughts and then they could get to work together on solving this thing. He just hoped that Dobey would let him and Hutch work the case – he had a feeling that Hutch would need to do that, would need to feel he had got justice for his ex-wife whether she deserved it or not. And if that’s what Hutch needed, Starsky would do his best to make sure he got the chance.

*****

The last day and a half had been a waking nightmare. Hutch was glad that the investigation was over. He was relieved that he had been cleared of any wrong-doing, although he knew that he and his partner were both in trouble; Starsky for refusing a direct order to take him in once the warrant had been issued for his arrest; him for refusing to comply with the warrant; and both of them for going rogue and investigating the crime themselves when the case had been handed over to IA.

They’d both been interrogated by the Head of IA when they finally returned to the Metro Building to oversee the booking of Wheeler, Cardwell and Boyle and handed in the evidence recorded by Huggy.

They’d been taken by the Head of IA and interviewed separately – an interview which felt more like a grilling – and had eventually been allowed to go home. They would be told tomorrow what consequences there would be for their disobedience.

Hutch stood under the shower until the water started to cool, trying to wash away his feelings of anger against his unjust treatment, his guilt at the mess he had got Dobey and Starsky embroiled in and his sense of loss.

Hutch felt guilty because he knew that Dobey had been roasted by the Commissioner, which he felt very sorry about. He had hated putting his Captain in such a difficult position, but it couldn’t be helped. Simonetti and Dryden would have railroaded a conviction and who knew if his defence team would have been up to the task of uncovering the truth. Simonetti had it in for him and had had no intention of looking anywhere else for an answer. Hutch felt his anger boiling up again. If only Starsky had let me hit Simonetti yesterday! But would it have helped how he was feeling now? Probably not. Hutch vigorously towelled his hair, attempting to use the rough action to defuse his anger.

He would thank Dobey first chance he got for putting his neck on the line for him. His assurance that he had fully supported Hutch and Starsky’s investigation had gone a long way to minimising the consequences of their insubordinate actions. The fact that he and his partner had solved the case (and neatly wrapped up the solution with a nice, big red bow) meant that the DA could prosecute and know that they would get a conviction. That fact would also help his partner and him. The department couldn’t exactly discipline two detectives who had recovered a million dollar stone and solved a two-year old robbery and homicide to boot. No, they would have to pretend that the department had fully sanctioned the operation by the two detectives or run the risk of losing their prize conviction.

So the nightmare was over.

Hutch buttoned up a fresh shirt and walked towards the kitchen to pour himself an orange juice…and found himself frozen in the space between the sofa and the wooden wall unit. For a moment, his eyes played tricks on him and all he could see was Vanessa’s body lying lifelessly on the floor. Even in death, she had been beautiful.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself and forestall the tears that were threatening to start again. He had allowed himself to shed a few silent tears last night at Huggy’s place – only a few, once he’d been sure Huggy and Starsky were both asleep and wouldn’t hear him.

Even now, he couldn’t understand the searing sense of loss he felt. It was more than just the natural sadness at a young woman’s life cut short. He and Vanessa had meant something to each other once and all those feelings that he thought had been long forgotten had come rushing back. Love, loss, anger, rejection, attraction, vulnerability, connection. How complicated it all was. He wished Vanessa had never called him. He’d successfully (for the most part) put her out of his mind and carried on with making a life for himself. Now, he was beset with a painful set of conflicting memories – the happiness they had often shared mixed with all the times of feeling miserable – and now the overpowering image in his mind was Vanessa’s cold body lying on the floor in his apartment. Would he ever get that image out of his mind? Or would he see it every time he came back from a jog to the beach? Every time he opened his front door and looked across his apartment?

Suddenly, he felt the overwhelming urge to get away from that memory. He had to get out of the apartment. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to come back…ever.

Hutch grabbed his jacket and fled away from the heavy silence and the vivid memory of yesterday morning. Fled to the one place he might be able to get some peace: Starsky’s.

His friend’s front door opened just as he arrived at the top of Starsky’s steps. His partner was heading out, but he did a double-take and stopped.

“Hey! I was just coming to see ya, pal. Figured ya might need some company.”

Hutch just nodded.

Starsky took in the pale face, watery eyes and silence and quickly ushered Hutch into his apartment. He removed his jacket and hung up his gun.

“Make yourself at home. How about I order in some pizza?”

Having taken his jacket and holster off, Hutch walked over to the couch and settled on it. “Sounds good.”

Starsky made the call and then collected some beers and joined Hutch on the sofa.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Hutch shook his head, but then said, “Well, only to say thank you…for everything you did to help clear my name.”

Starsky shrugged. “That’s my job.”

“I’m still grateful. It looked bad, Starsk. A lot of people, even a loyal partner, might have assumed the worst.”

Starsky shook his head vigorously. “Got total faith in you, partner…just like you got in me.”

Hutch sniffed slightly and took a sip from his beer.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about anything?”

“Like what?”

“Like…reconnecting with Vanessa…how are you’re feeling about that?”

Hutch deliberated and then said, “I don’t know what I’m feeling…It was a mistake going to meet her. She pushed my buttons just like she used to…and then it wasn’t a mistake. She was sweet and loving, like she was when we first met.” Hutch made a noise that was a cross between a sigh and a sob. “On my run I was confused. I was thinking it through. If she had cancer, would she need me? Would I want to be there for her?…But that was all a lie. Everything about her was a lie…Should make it easier to accept that she got in over her head and that her death was a consequence of her own avarice but it doesn’t help…Not in the least! And then I wonder how I could be so stupid as to let her make me care about her even for those few brief moments. What kind of a fool does that make me?”

Hutch was looking at his partner, demanding an answer.

“Not a fool…Just a man who is sometimes too caring for his own good. And Vanessa did bring this on herself. You got nothing to be regretful for. I just wish she hadn’t dragged you into her stupid scheme. You’ve been through hell and it was all her fault. It probably doesn’t help me saying this, but I’m angry. I’m angry at Vanessa…and you know what I’m angry at Simonetti!”

Hutch couldn’t help smiling. In some way, it did help knowing how angry his partner was. “Nice punch you gave him. Don’t think you’d better try that again though or you might not keep your job.”

Starsky snorted. “Might be worth it.”

There was a knock on the door startling them both for a moment.

“Oh. The pizza.”

Starsky paid the delivery guy and then placed the pizza box on the coffee table. He opened the lid and they both helped themselves to a slice. Starsky turned the television on and found a movie for them to watch.

As the movie drew to an end, Hutch asked, even though he knew he didn’t need to, “Can I sleep on your couch tonight?”

“No.”

Hutch looked at his friend, shock clear on his face. “No?”

“No, you can’t ‘cause I’m going to sleep over at your place.”

“You are? Why? And what’s the difference between here and there?”

“The difference is it’s like riding a horse. If you fall off, you gotta get back on.”

“Huh?”

“I’m guessing you don’t feel very comfortable being at your place right now?” Starsky asked, and Hutch’s look confirmed his suspicion. “I reckon that’ll get worse if you stay away. I reckon you gotta go home and try and put the whole thing behind you. So I’ll come and stay over till you feel like your place isn’t a crime scene, but back to feeling like home.” Before Hutch could protest that it wasn’t necessary, Starsky jumped up. “I’ll pack enough clothes for a couple of nights. You kick me out when you’ve had enough of my company. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Starsky nodded as he walked away to fill a small case with clothes. Hutch cleared up the beer bottles and pizza box and made sure everything was tidy for his friend. Then the two of them put on their jackets and headed out to their waiting cars.

“Whose car?” Hutch asked.

“How about we both drive back to your place?” Starsky suggested. “I don’t want to be stuck in your car for more time than I need to be! This way, I can drive us in to work tomorrow.”

Hutch rolled his eyes, but then nodded. “Fine.”

Hutch climbed in his car, started the engine and then followed the roar that was the inevitable sound produced by his partner’s driving of his beloved Torino. As he drove his heart felt lighter and his mind felt calmer knowing that he wouldn’t be alone in his apartment for a few days. His partner had come up with a solution that Hutch hadn’t even contemplated and Hutch knew that Starsky’s soothing presence (that he somehow maintained even when he was being irritating) would be just the stabilising force Hutch needed to recover from his ordeal. Once again, he gave thanks for his amazing fortune in meeting Starsky, the best friend he had ever had and the best partner a man could ever want.